The Paw Print

This morning at around 9:20 a.m., a train passing through the Wall Street station hit a hanging electric cable, making several explosions. A crowded number 4 train sitting in the station felt the impact of the blasts. Passengers (not knowing what caused the bangs) ran from the cars and for the exits, hoping the station wouldn’t explode on their way out.$0 Accidents like these remind New Yorkers how sensitive they are to loud blasts, and how eight years has not diminished the trauma of 9/11. It is revealing how ready people are to yell “Bomb!” $0$0 After exiting the station, frightened passengers asked each other if it was aterrorist attack; the station’s location beneath Wall Street justified this concern. However, it’s shocking after always riding the train with “tough” New Yorkers that a small electrical mishap can bring out something so raw and personal. Without realizing, we’re wired for the absolute worst. $0

“If psychology is the ‘science of behavior, and theatre is a ‘mirror of life,’ each should have something to offer the other.” -Dr. Glenn Wilson.

$0$0 Today, an article was released revealing that Michael Jackson’s mother would be the one to take care of his kids. I don’t know why the media feel it is important to constantly release articles on Michael Jackson, his kids, and his personal business. Sure everyone wants to know exactly what he died of, but I don’t think the media should be digging up old stuff to release to the public in order to show who he “really” was.$0$0  Everyday there’s a new article going farther into detail about Michael Jackson’s death, family, etc. It’s getting really out of hand simply because the media hasn’t let the man rest in peace since he passed away three weeks ago. I feel really bad that the media is going deeper and deeper into Jackson’s personal life.$0$0  Poor Michael Jackson can’t get a day without being on Entertainment News or being in your local newspapers. It’s really saddening. People refuse to let him be. Everyone’s done their dirt and once they’re gone, they’re gone. I don’t see the need for anyone to have their business put out in the public; if they wanted us to know, they would have revealed it.$0$0  I can’t even believe every new rumor the media releases, I can hardly keep up. They like to release statements from whoever claims they knew Jackson. Honestly, everyone should let the man be. He was only human and everyone makes mistakes. No matter what, he was a great entertainer, the King of Pop, and that’s what everyone should remember him for since we now know that whole case was a total lie about him molesting children.$0$0

Our economy collapsed and people worldwide feel the effects. We have all heard about it and many of us have felt it. People have had to cut back and think twice about the way that they are spending money.

Harvard Business Review published an article in their latest issue called “Understanding the Post-Recession Consumer”. In it, they discuss the impact that the sudden change in economic climate will make on us, the consumers.

For example, during the Great Depression, people pitched pennies because it was a means of survival. But when that generation grew up and left the dire economic situation, they were still generally known to be savers, not spenders. It was a habit that they carried into later life.

HBR predicts eight trends for business in the post-recession world: four that are accelerating and four that are being slowed down by the recession.

Some that I identified with were: discretionary thrift and mercurial consumption. Both are accelerating trends.

I had to reflect on it, but I most definitely am changing my habits. Admittedly, it might be more because my parents recently bought a house and now have a mortgage to worry about, but the economy can certainly be accredited with scaring me straight.

In the past few months, I have developed an immense appreciation for thrift stores. I now find certain prices for clothing outrageous. I made a little resolution recently, aiming not to spend more than twenty dollars on a single article of clothing. I heard Zoe Kravitz was doing it. If she can, why can’t I? (I must admit though: I recently cheated when I got a new purse for a whooping 35 bucks.) Out of my latest cosmetics purchases, most of them were on the low-end, typical drug store brands. (Wet n wild, anyone?). I haven’t set foot into a Starbucks in ages, opting for coffee carts and 50 cent coffee from my local Brooklyn grocery shop.

I didn’t know what “mercurial consumption” was prior to reading this article. It refers to the fact that people are become more fickle shoppers. We are likely to quickly abandon a product or brand that is not up to our standards and find something new and better. What we buy may change but we will utilize more resources, particularly the internet, to get to the product we need.

I especially found this to be true. I have been spending more time researching a product before I buy it. I sort through reviews and testimonials on the web. I do this with everything from shoes to mascara to head phones. I try to make absolutely sure that I will be satisfied with a product that I am buying.

However, this is all minor stuff because I’m about to make the biggest, most impactful purchase of my life so far: a college education.

My neighbor, a remarkable auto mechanic who managed to put three kids through college at the same time, once told me, “An education in this country is insanely expensive, but you do it. You do all you can”.

My parents assure me that they could handle the mammoth burden of paying tuition for a top university, but I have been considering my options. I have been weighing the cons and pros of certain school while taking money into great account. Honestly, it’s become my top concern. “Oh, I can just take out a loan,” is no longer my mindset. It has morphed to, “How am I going to pay it off?”

Just a year ago, I was ready to pack my bags, hop on a plane, and move out to Ann Arbor to attend the University of Michigan. Now I am seriously considering and liking the idea of going to Macaulay Honors College and living with the parents.

Inevitably, I think a lot of people from my generation can identify with my concerns. We have started to look into our futures in a different way, and perhaps this somewhat beneficial perceptive and attitude will follow us into later years.

    Recently I visited the most wonderful place on Earth.  No not Disney World but Max Brenner Chocolate located on Broadway at Union Square.  From the outside I was attracted by the signature face of the bald man himself. When I opened the double doors I was immediatley hit with the mouth-watering aroma of chocolate.  Trust me for all chocolate lovers this IS heaven.$0 Max Brenner had everything from caramalized pecans coated with coco powder to chocolate pizza.  Yes, chocolate pizza.The inside of the store made you feel like you were in a chocolate factory.  The walls were deep brown and there were pipes running above you; two of them led to machines that were churning white and dark chocolate.  The store is also a restaurant where you can order regular food and anything chocolate.  It’s a nice place to look around with friends and family.  Trust me this is one of the places you do not want to miss out on :).$0$0http://www.maxbrenner.com/ $0$0$0

    In 2006, Andrea Elliott won the Pulitzer Prize for her piece in The New York Times, which centered on an imam from a mosque in Brooklyn and his journey as an American Muslim leader. As imam, Sheik Reda Shata had to constantly resolve daily social problems from fellow Muslims seeking help while trying to delicately balance the religious traditions with American culture. Coming to the United States as imam in 2002, the imam also had to deal with the terrorism threat by answering to the police and maintaining the trust of his congregants at the same time.$0 Shata’s long trek to America from his birthplace of Egypt and the conflicts he had to settle daily as imam were powerful and moving. While I was reading it though, the background of the pictures looked familiar. I realized that Shata’s story took place right near my home. The Islamic Society of Bay Ridge was next to a movie theater that I had gone to my whole life. I recognized the building in the photo and its moss green fence. The building had always been there. And yet, I never even bothered to find out what it was. $0 After reading the article, I thought back to the times when I watched movies at the theater. I would see people standing outside the mosque, but I never realized why. Whenever I walked home from the theater, I always passed the building, but I was never curious about it. Every Friday, 1,500 people would go to the mosque, which has become a vibrant NYC Muslim center, to pray. And I was clueless.$0 This story personally showed me how potent and important journalism is in society. A story can take place anywhere and anytime with anyone. I was surprised and awed to read such a poignant piece and find out everything took place two avenues from where I lived. If I had not read the articles, then I would still be walking by the Islamic Society of Bay Ridge in obliviousness. I would never know that everyday, there was an imam in the mosque who fellow Muslim citizens from all around the city turned to and depended on. I would have never known about the struggles and mental strength it takes to daily reconcile the delicate relationship between tradition and modernity in the Muslim world. Because of the article, I realized that the neighborhood I thought I had knew so well, was still a mystery. There are still so many things to discover in my own home.$0 The next time you pass by your movie theater, check out the buildings around it. $0$0

            He doesn’t choose to sit down in the chair or atop the plastic Baruch desk like the four or five previous guest speakers. Instead he stands upright and a little off center, strategically positioning himself behind his “weapon.” In front of our guest speaker, it rests alone, lying on the desk. This weapon is staring at me and in turn I stare back. Looking at this weapon reminds me of crime scenes in “Special Victims Unit,” when police officers, Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson, present the weapon to the murderer, dramatically placing it in front of his or her face. This particular weapon resting on the commercially made Baruch desk wasn’t used to draw blood like weapons presented in “Special Victims Unit,” but nevertheless the products of the weapon evoke the same desired effect from the viewer that Stabler and Benson hope to get out of their guilty mate. The products of the weapon make the viewer reflect, assess themselves and his or her actions and relive a story.

            So what is this weapon that can accurately be related to a weapon from “Special Victims Unit”? The answer is simple. The weapon captures particular moments with a click of a button and for the past couple of decades has had a huge impact on the way we take  in news (recently they actually have been in the news). With cameras, it’s all about the visual photograph and capturing news through a medium separate from writing. I have always loved photography and have believed that photographs add flavor to an article, but never have seen photographs as an efficient way of expressing the news. Actually honestly, I once thought that photographs were not as important as the article. The photograph was more of an add-on to the article, instead of being its own force needing support from its counterpart and prime detective, Mr. Text. However, I have jumped to conclusions. Photography is as much a way of capturing the news as writing. Some even argue that photojournalism is a more useful way of understanding and remembering news because it does not capture information through strewn words but through a powerful picture that will make the reader refer to the photograph throughout another paragraph of text. Maybe I should invest in a more advanced “weapon.”  

 

Silent Tears

Dakota, Josh Guitelman and Jordin Kelley, all students at Bronx Science, have lost their lives in the same year of 08-09 and their deaths, without a doubt had a profound impact on all of us: family, students and teachers alike. And what were my reactions? They were of complete silence. Upon hearing the news of Dakota’s death through Facebook, Josh’s over the loudspeaker on a Monday morning and Jordin’s right before my entrance into the AP Biology exam, I could not utter a single word, not even a sound. I couldn’t control my emotions: shocked, depressed, puzzled, mournful, sympathetic, they were all thrown into my face all at once and it hurt. It really did, especially in dealing with Jordin’s death, who I have known since freshman year. Finally, I let it all out. I cried on the day of the memorial for Jordin’s death. We all commemorated his life in the auditorium, where sniffles were heard every once in a while as students tried to hold back their tears. I too refused to unleash my heavy barrel of tears and release my fears, but in the end, I did just that.

At first, I couldn’t accept the fact that the most sincere and genuine of all people, Jordin had passed away and had left us so abruptly without a thought of offering a goodbye or leaving hints of his departure. Why? Why?? WHY??? Why does death occur, especially for someone who is so young and has just started his journey to his goals? Death is humans’ worst villain. They come and go, leaving us with nothing but silent tears, yearning for our loved ones to come back.

I would never forget Jordin’s image with his straw hat, big T shirt and freshman-sized backpack and the way he presented himself by cracking “yo mama” jokes and offering help to others when he saw the opportunity, including with the security guards and janitors at our school. He was often identified under the “uncool” category simply because he did not follow the fashion trends at school and had weird habits of eating peanuts and being the only black kid on the handball team. Nevertheless, I never undermined Jordin and knew he was a great person at heart, but my deepest regret is not letting Jordin know what his presence and friendship really meant to all of us. I never had the chance to thank him for being a friend to Bronx Science. We never acknowledged or cherished his friendship, but only took advantage of his naive yet friendly and kind hearted personality. We all regretted our own naive and ignorant selves to disregard, overlook and miss the opportunity of getting to know one of the nicest people and, with certainty, a good friend.

His departure imprinted a scar on my heart, mind and soul. It was the first time I began questioning the reasons behind human existence. Why does God create humans, make them struggle through life and then destroy them in the end? It all doesnt make sense to me. I have rationalized upon this issue from different angles and even started conjuring obscure thoughts inside my head. But I never got a solid answer, one that will gratify my enigmatic situation and settle my worries and fears once and for all. Soon enough, I found my solution. Two weeks after Jordin’s death, I became enlightened by a quote my friend created and posted in his buddy profile on AIM. And this was what it exactly said: “It is a bless to be living.”

On Friday July 24th, The Boston Symphony Orchestra conducted by James Levine performed valiantly at Tanglewood during a deluge.  Soloist Steven Ansell, the Boston Symphony Orchestra’s Principal Viola, competed with the pounding roar of the rain on the Koussevitzky Music Shed’s roof to be heard by the crowd. Great viola solos are not a common occurrence and it is a pity that much of the crowd could only hear parts of Mr. Ansell’s moving performance.

The dramatic concert started with Hector Berlioz’s overture from “Roman Carnival” Opus Nine and “Harold in Italy” Opus 16.  After the intermission, the orchestra performed Modest Mussorgsky’s Prelude to the opera “Khovanshchina” and “Pictures at an Exhibition,” orchestrated by Ravel.  During the first few minutes of the concert, rain fell softly on the roof of the shed and onto the audience seated on the surrounding lawn.  As night fell, the storm picked up its pace.  Suddenly, the darkened sky opened up and let forth a torrent of rain.  Mr. Ansell’s expressive cadenzas were punctuated by crashes of thunder.  Flashes of lightning turned the sky an unearthly blue. 

The audience seated on the lawn ran for cover under the edges of the shed. A few intrepid souls remained huddled under umbrellas and around citronella candles on the lawn.  The rain increased steadily until no one on the lawn could hear Mr. Ansell above the din.  He appeared to be putting up a good fight against the rain, communicating his passion with dramatic facial expressions and vigorously moving his bow.  The third part of the piece “Serenade of an Abruzzese mountaineer to his mistress” was overshadowed by the noise of the downpour.  At that point, Conductor James Levine had to stop the performance and wait out the worst of the storm.  During the pause, the humorous Mr. Levine turned to the audience with mock-annoyance and put a finger to his lips to shush the storm.  The audience laughed in appreciation.  After a short pause, they began again.  At certain points the tympani drum and cymbals seemed to mimic the weather.  Mr. Ansell worked hard preparing “Harold in Italy”.  It is unfortunate that the weather took over the concert. The end of the piece was greeted witht hunderous applause in recognition of the performers’ good humor, perseverance,and excellent musicianship.

During the intermission, the shivering audience collectively ran towards the food tent to buy warm drinks.  The volunteers had anticipated their need and had already set out coffee, tea, and hot chocolate. The audience also bought forest green ponchos and umbrellas bearing the Tanglewood logo.  Luckily, during the second half of the concert the weather improved enough for the audience to enjoy Moussorgsky’s dramatic “Pictures at an Exhibition”.

Walking around SoHo and NoLita for hours with my trusty “reporters’ notebook” and Life Coach/Close Friend Nicole was an eye opening experience. For the last few months I’ve been attempting to decide whether I’d want to do political journalism over fashion journalism. These recent reporting

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Getting off the R Train on Prince Street with a list of stores to visit was something I could do every day. It was spontaneous yet still a guided mission. Find as many thrift shops, consignment stores and far too expensive boutiques. When there: talk to as many people as I could find. The reporters’ notebook in my Urban Outfitters bag gave me permission to walk into an overpriced boutique (that I probably wouldn’t even be able to buy a single earring from) and interview a frustrated ex-model turned Shop Girl.

A few days later I went to Chelsea to interview store workers. After entering a seemingly “buzz to enter” building with a door that was already open I found a dark corridor with two elevators and no one around. I was not looking forward to going all the way up to the eighth floor to Delta Enterprise Corporation in another rickety looking deathtrap. As I was waiting to hear the “snap-crackle-pop” of the elevator cable Nicole, who came along that day as well, counted every floor we passed alive.

When the doors creaked open we were in a brightly lit, well-decorated children’s toy making office. We wandered out of our plausible metal coffin akin to what Alice would probably look like after she came out of the rabbit hole. A smartly dressed twenty-something gave me a surprised look and all I could mutter was “Well this isn’t right.”Although we had only taken one step into the office we received many a perplexed stare.

We shrunk back into the elevator quickly and thankfully the door closed at the same pace.